The grand dining room of the Moretti estate was as cold as the marble floors it sat on. Long table, too many forks, too few real conversations.
Lia stared at the untouched steak in front of her. Across the table, her mother gave her that look—elegant, sharp, and exhausted by Lia's lack of effort in becoming the perfect debutante.
"We'll be attending the Winters' fundraiser next weekend," her mother said, slicing through her meal like it had personally offended her.
Lia didn't look up. "I already told Kai I'd be there."
Her father glanced up from his wine glass. "Good. You and Kai have always been close."
Her grip on the fork tightened.
Too close. Not close enough. Complicated.
"You're both nearly eighteen," her mother continued. "It's time to think beyond high school. The Winters are… expecting things to move forward."
Lia blinked.
"Expecting what, exactly?"
"Don't play dumb, Lia," her mother snapped, her tone still smooth, but laced with warning. "You and Kai have been in each other's lives since you were in diapers. It's not unreasonable to—"
"To what?" Lia cut in. "Plan a future I didn't agree to?"
"Don't be dramatic," her father said quietly, though he didn't deny it.
Lia pushed her plate away and stood. "I'm done."
She didn't wait for permission. She never did.
Kai was halfway into his second drink when Lia found him on the rooftop balcony of his house that night—because of course his bedroom had a private rooftop. Stars above, party music muffled below. Just like him—loud on the surface, quiet where it counted.
"You okay?" he asked when he saw her face.
She didn't answer, just walked past him and sat on the edge of the low wall, legs dangling like she didn't care how high they were.
"My parents think we're getting married," she said flatly.
Kai choked on his drink. "Wait, what?"
"You heard me."
He blinked. "Wow. That's—romantic."
She gave him a look.
Kai sat beside her. The silence stretched.
"I mean," he said after a moment, "there are worse fates. I'm charming, rich, devastatingly handsome—"
"—and allergic to commitment."
He laughed. "Fair. Still, if it did happen… it wouldn't be the worst thing, right?"
Lia turned to him, serious. "Don't joke about that. Not with me."
His smile faltered. Again.
"Then say you don't feel anything when it's just us," he said quietly. "Say it, and I'll back off."
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
The wind picked up, cool against her skin. Somewhere inside, someone turned up the music. More people, more noise, more distractions.
Lia stood.
"I don't believe in love, Kai."
"Then believe in me," he said, standing too.
She looked at him. Really looked at him. And for the first time, he wasn't wearing the charming mask. He was just Kai—the boy who used to climb trees with her, who carried more than he let on, who wanted something real.
She didn't reply.
But she didn't walk away either.